Deserving It
by Whipper
Summary: Michael and Max talk about Hank.


Disclaimers; Apply...   
  
Warnings; Not beta'd, and my English isn't very good; so you'll probably find some grammar/spelling errors in here. Do me a favor though; DON'T MAKE ANY COMPLAINTS ABOUT THEM! You were warned, and if there's something I don't need it's people throwing stones in my direction.   
  
Authors Note; I don't like the ending to 'Deserving It' but it was the best I could come up with. If you have any suggestions; tell me about 'em!   
  
_D E S E R V I N G I T ,_   
  
written by Whipper   
  
  
_'With your kind of powers you don't get hurt, Michael. You let yourself be hurt!'_   
  
_'Yeah, maybe I do. Maybe I do let myself be hurt. Maybe I deserve getting hurt! Ever thought about that, Maxwell?'_   
  
_'What the hell are you talking about, Michael?!'_   
  
And his voice was a strange mix of fear, anger and concern.   
  
_'Maybe I deserve it, Max.'_   
  
'Deserve what, Michael?'   
  
There was an edge to his voice that I never think I've heard before. He grabbed my arms and slammed me into the wall. I hit my head and for a moment I saw stars. His face was so close to mine that when he spoke again I could feel the heat from his breath against my skin.   
  
_'Deserve what, Michael?' _   
  
He let go of me a little just to slam me against the wall again. Harder this time.   
  
_'The pain? Do you deserve the pain?'_   
  
His fist connected with my stomach and I couldn't help crying out. I wanted to double over, to curl up on the floor but Max wouldn't let me, his hands just clamping down harder on my upper arms.   
  
_'The bruises? Is that what you deserve, Michael?'_   
  
There was going to be bruises; on my arms, my back...probably my stomach as well.   
  
_'The humiliation of getting beaten? Do you need to be humiliated like this?'_   
  
Did he expect me to answer?   
  
_'Do you deserved to be punished?'_   
  
He would never understand it.   
  
_'Do you, Michael?'_   
  
Never.   
  
_'Answer me, Michael!'_   
  
_'What do you want me to say, Max?'_   
  
I don't know what went wrong. One moment we was arguing over Hank the other Max, my Max!, was pushing me against the wall beating the crap out of me.   
  
_'I want you to answer my question. I want you to tell me whatever the fuck you meant by what you just said! I want you to tell me that's going on in that little brain of yours. That's what I want, Michael! So tell me! Or do I have to beat it out of you? Is that the only way you can do this?'_   
  
I decided to ignore those last words. They hurt to much.   
  
_'I don't know I meant, Max. Okay? I don't know. So why don't we just stop this, right now...'_   
  
_'It's not fucking okay, Michael. It's not okay. And we're not going to 'stop this'. You're staying right where you are until you've answered my questions. Do you understand?'_   
  
When I didn't answer slammed me against the wall again. My shoulders and lower back was really starting to hurt from it's repeated contact with the hard wall so I nodded in agreement.   
  
_'Do you understand, Michael?'_   
  
_'Yeah. Yeah, I understand.'_   
  
And I do.   
  
He let go of my arms and I sank down on the floor. He looked down at me where I sat his usually so calm eyes burning with anger. I don't think he's ever been this angry with me before.   
  
_'Good. Good.'_   
  
He turned his back on me and stared into the opposite wall for a couple of minutes. I didn't dare to speak, and after a while I realized that I was breathing very quietly. As if any noise would, could turn his attention over to me again. As if I was afraid for him. As if he was Hank and not Max.   
  
_'Max?'_   
  
Was that really my voice? So...shaky.   
  
_'Yes, Michael?'_   
  
_'I'm sorry for saying that, Max.'_   
  
_'I know you're sorry. So am I.'_   
  
And he was. I've had that coming for as long as I can remember, yet he apologized. I don't think he'd be Max if he didn't.   
  
Just the way I wouldn't be Michael if I didn't keep talking even though it's hurting us both.   
  
_'I'm sorry...but it's true. It's true, Max. I do deserve it.'_   
  
I stopped there to see how he reacted to the words. I didn't want a repeat performance of what just had happened. But when nothing happened I continued;   
  
_'I'm not stupid; I know that I know that Hank doesn't...didn't beat me up because I deserved it. He beat me because he was drunk, because he was pissed at someone at work, because it was easy, because I was there... But I deserved it. Every bruise and slap, every hard word, every night when I couldn't sleep... I deserved it.'_   
  
_'Why?'_   
  
_'Why?'   
  
I knew even as I started to explain that he wouldn't understand. That I didn't have the words to make him understand. But still I couldn't stop. The words were just there and they had to come out.   
  
__'There's so many reasons. I'm no good, Max. I always screwed up. Always have, always will. Whatever I do or say someone ends up hurt! I'm a killer! You and Isabel; you are good. You with your healing, Isabel and her dreamwalks...But what do I have? I have the power to destroy. To hurt, To kill. Whatever I get, I deserve it. I probably deserve more.'_   
  
_'Michael.'_   
  
_'I hate myself, Max.'   
  
The pain in his face was obvious, yet I said it again;   
  
__'I hate myself. For hurting you and Isabel. For being who and what I am.'   
  
__'Michael.'_   
  
And could tell from his voice that that was my cue to shut up. We sat there in silence for a long time. My head resting against the wall, Max standing at my side, his hand clutching my shoulder. Surprisingly enough, it was Max who finally broke the silence. It's usually me who cracks up and can't stand the silence.   
  
_'We love you, Michael. Me and Isabel. For being who and what you are. Yes, you screw up. Yes, you hurt people. Yes, you have the powers to destroy and hurt and kill. You are a pain in the ass, Michael. But you're also one of us. A part of us. And every time you get hurt, we hurt as well. Every time you cry, we cry with you. You're a part of us. And we're a part of you. So every time you allow this to happen; you allow this to happen to us. Every time you say you hate yourself; you say you hate us.'_   
  
Leave it to Max Evans to say something like that.   
  
_'Do you understand?'_   
  
I nod, but this time I lie. I don't understand.   
  
But who knows? Maybe someday I will.   
  
Maybe if Max keeps slamming me into hard walls.   
  
Maybe. 


End file.
